


It all comes back, doesn't it?

by Taylexander_Hamilton



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, alex is sad, death by alcohol poisoning, i don't know how to tag, implied suicide, not smut but mentions of it, oops eliza is bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-12-21 15:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11947518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taylexander_Hamilton/pseuds/Taylexander_Hamilton
Summary: Thomas cheats on Alex with Elizathis is the only work I actually pay attention to for some reason





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so I suddenly thought of this and needed to write it so there's probably typos here and there because if I leave it, I'll never come back to it.

Alexander's hands shook as he read the text messages. Thomas had left on one of his "mysterious confidential work trips" but left his personal phone behind. The trips had been getting more and more frequent as time went on, arousing too much distrust and suspicion from Alexander for their relationship to be considered healthy. So, Alex had let him go without a fuss. Thomas had been running late as it was and didn't have time to flip the house over in order to find his phone that was tucked away in the shorter man's pocket. It wasn't the best move on his part either but Alex saw the option as the only way fit. He was not going to confront Thomas on such a topic without having proof to back him up.

Only, what he found was not what he had hoped for.

[E♥:Tommy, you're still on for tonight, right?]

[You:Of course babe, just have to talk to him]

[E♥: good, I can't to feel you on me, to moan your name...] It went on for quite a while; Alex didn't even want to finish reading it.

[You: Can't wait]

This was the most recent encounter. The first took minutes to scroll all the way up to that just made Alex go cold.

[E♥: is this Thomas Jefferson?]

[You: who is this?]

[E♥: Elizabeth Schuyler]

[You:oh...  
what do you want?]

[E♥: I have a proposal]

[You: what kind of proposal, miss?]

[E♥: one that doesn't involve Alexander  
meet me at this address in twenty minutes and we can discuss some things]

[You: I'm not sure if this is the best idea]

[E♥: I know about what happened with Lafayette]

[You: I'll be there]

There wasn't anything very suggestive in the texts but there was an undertone that just made Alex uncomfortable. Maybe it was the way his ex had typed out his whole name or the threat she had made. Maybe it was the way Thomas had agreed so easily after such a mild threat. Well, what could have happened between them? Laf did come back for a few days and they had spent quite a lot of time together-oh. Fucking fantastic. He didn't even both to read the rest of the texts if the way  he threw it on the table in a jealous rage made any light of that.

He sat down on the love seat with a huff and ran his fingers through his long down hair, elbows resting heavily on his knees. The conclusion he had come to filled Alex with more dread and sadness than he could have possibly have imagined. It was a sinking feeling like falling down a hole of pure darkness without something to hold on to, nothing to safe you. His life had fallen apart in that split second of realisation.

The love of his life, the man he couldn't imagine living in a world without, was cheating with, and probably fucking, his ex girlfriend. The woman who he had thought to be the one when he was young and naive who he cheated on in a time of pure desperation, exhaustion, and selfishness. 

It was a punishment for what he'd done as if the pain he had caused Eliza wasn't enough. It was only fair, wasn't it? To have everything you ever cared about ripped from your grasp after cheating on a person who cared about you so dearly that it felt like you meant the world to them? 

It was too late now. The deed had been done, the past being impossible to change. Tears started to form at the corner of Alex's eyes, rolling down his face not a minute later. He had lost everyone. For not the first time in his life, Alexander Hamilton was alone. He was alone with his thoughts.

_"Oh, Thomas, fuck. mmm-"_

_A smack to the ass followed by a scream that was intermingled with both pleasure and pain, pleasure ruling out the pain by just enough to make it arousing._

_"You like that, darlin', don't you..."_

'SHUT UP!" Alex yelled into the empty apartment. More tears were streaming from his eyes and staining the casual clothing he wore. In fact, the sweater that adorned his small figure was far too big to be his own meaning it must be Thomas's. He ripped it off his torso, strings snapping with a muted popping noise but he didn't care. It wasn't his so why should he? "FUCK YOU AND YOUR PERFECT BODY AND ALL THE LIES, EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!" he screaming, venting into the disturbed peace of the apartment. 

Realising that words were going to get him nowhere in this situation without someone to hear them, he took to the kitchen and whipped the sharp pair of scissors out from the drawer. Like always, Alex relished in the way the rubber grip fell so comfortably into his hand but only for a second. The next, he was back in the sitting room, leaning over the sweater. His hand was balled up around some of the deep purple fabric while the other held the scissors to the layers upon layers of complex threading. 

The pair of blades slid through the fabric so easily, it felt like it was meant to be; that these scissors were supposed to cut through the lying bastard's sweater. He was starting to realise that he should be directing more of his anger at Eliza but it wasn't like he had any of her possessions within reach. It only took enough time for this thought to be mulled over for the sweater to lie in small purple bits around him. "Fuck..." He breathed, setting down the sharp object at last.

An empty numbness seemed to fill him. Everyone was gone. Only, Thomas only was if he let him slip through by bringing this stupid cheating thing up. He could just let it go and fall into a false sense of safety. Thomas would go to his meetings and trips. Alex would wait till he got home.

 

 

When Thomas arrived home, the apartment was spotless apart from the smell of weed in the air. He knew Alex smoked it from time to time so he didn't think to question it. He didn't think to question the two empty bottles of liquor or the fact that Alex had already gone to bed. He didn't even question the extra crack in his phone. After getting himself ready for bed, he crawled in next to Alex, keeping to his side of the bed. Sleep soon settled throughout the apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

Alexander woke up the next morning with a raging headache and Thomas curled up at his side. This was how it always seemed to be. Every morning a hangover and an exhausted and bruised man clinging to him. Every morning since one of the worst days of his life.

It had been three months now since he had found out. Thomas had been taking more and more of his "business trips" but always managed to arrive home for Alex to wake up with him still asleep but present nonetheless. One might ask if this was really living, if this was what a serious relationship was supposed to be like. One was not Alexander. Alex had numbed himself with alcohol, buying his liquor in secret and hiding them where he knew Thomas would never go. Maybe that's why he was so used to the hangovers. Maybe that's why his quality of what he could accomplish at work was diminishing by the day. Maybe that was why Washington had more often than not had no choice but to send him home.

But he always woke up with Thomas curled up at his side. That never changed and he was almost grateful for it. Not to Thomas, of course, but to whatever being had cursed him to live such a trauma filled life. He wasn't a religious man so there was no one he could blame. That's why it always came to rest on his shoulders. For something his unfaithful boyfriend did. 

To sum it all up, Alexander Hamilton was living a living hell and he was too numb to even see it. Alcohol and work numbed the pain while Thomas's hesitant affections made it seem worthwhile. Sometimes an occasional fuck when his "trips" were few and far between.

It was all the same 'til Alex woke up on a particularly dreary morning to find the bed cold, besides what little heat his tiny body could supply. Thomas was gone. The apartment was silent apart from his own heart thumping in his chest and the shallow breaths that rocked his unhealthy organs. "Thomas?" he called out but the sound resembled more of a whimper.

Ignoring the inevitable migraine, Alex got himself up and wandered the lifeless apartment. There were things missing, open drawers and cabinets here and there. No furniture was gone though. The only thing that really sparked any interest was the hastily folded up note on the counter.

  
Dear Alexander, it read.

I am afraid I have to take my leave. You are becoming unbearable to be around due to how distant you have become, like I haven't noticed your alcohol addiction. I am going back to Monticello until things can be resolved. I will only return once I have deemed you fit to be around.

Sincerely, Thomas Jefferson.

  
Alex stared at the letter in shock. Not only did Thomas not even mention the fact that he had been cheating on Alex for almost a year now, he tried to make Alex feel like he was at fault. 

The problem was, he believed it.  
  
  
  
More liquor was brought into the house that night, all of it drank. That was how Alexander ended up dead on the floor while Thomas ran off with his ex. Neither would know until they were invited to the funeral. Neither will grieve the loss of a brilliant man that they had essentially killed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this way WAY too angsty fic


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oops I need to stop

Or so he thought.

Thomas sat on the edge of the bed, a sleeping Eliza behind him and a letter in hand. It was Alexander's death notice and invitations to the funeral. He'd read over the carelessly scrawled words countless times since the day he got it, exactly a week ago. 

Why had he let this happen? There was no doubt that Alex had found out about his unfaithfulness since the night he had walked into the apartment exactly one year ago. His Eliza hadn't cared, hadn't even said a word of apology. It was though she happy that he was finally dead and her terrifying quest for revenge had been resolved at last. 

And it was disgusting.

Thomas had been doing his best to hide his true feelings of the event and brushed it off like "their relationship was falling apart anyways" which wasn't exactly a lie. It was his fault. He cheated on the man who always looked at him like he meant the world.

Till the addiction started. 

Thomas sighed and shoved the letter in his pocket, carefully standing from his pace on the bed as to not wake Eliza. The same care was taken when he shut the door with a muted click. The funeral was later that day and if he left now, he could make it but what would he say? Could he lie to Alexander's friends and coworkers? No. He had no right to attend.

With another huff of defeat, he curled up on the ridiculously expensive couch, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his trembling arms around them. As much as he could never admit it to another person, he still loved Alexander. He loved his smile, he loved to care for him when he forgot (no matter how much he worried), he loved the gentle weekend morning kisses, loved their petty arguments that always ended in laughter, loved Alexander with everything he had.

But now... He would never see him again.

Never see the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, never get to pepper his face with small adoring kisses, never hear his voice scratchy but loving after their night, never witness his attempts to cook without blowing up the kitchen, never see the gears turning in his brain when he typed at the speed of light ever again. Every morning, every night, every second of the day was spent regretting that time with Lafayette, regretting his agreement to be with Eliza. There was no one to blame but himself.

And maybe Eliza.

Thomas rose from the couch, no longer shaking with grief but with rage. It didn't take long to retrieve the largest kitchen knife he could find and throw open the bedroom door. "Tommy, what's happening?" She asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes in the harsh light from the hallway. 

Her last scream was cut short when Thomas plunged the blade into her jugular.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: suicide

Thomas stood over her limp body, blood dripped from the gauge in her throat. Letting go of the knife, he stumbled back towards the doorway, leaning against it while his chest heaved. His body count was at two. Blood was spattered across his palms quite literally. So he scrubbed. He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until his hands were raw from the friction. It hurt like hell but he couldn't care less, he only wanted this hell to be over.

After about fifteen minutes of standing in front of the sink, he had come to a decision. He'd attend the funeral. Within the course of about ten more minutes, Thomas's apparel consisted of a black suit, a deep green tie (Alexander's favourite colour) and a black top hat to bring the mourning outfit together.

His car was parked outside, driver nowhere to be seen since he shooed him away from the property after seeing too much. Sliding into the driver's seat, he strapped himself in and started the glossy black luxury car. It's engine sounded like a cat's rumbling purr, cutting through the gloom that had gathered in the form of fog in his life.

The long drive was meaningless, without thought or consideration. He obeyed the rules of the road without question, the grieving man's actions almost mechanical in their liking. He felt numb.

_Was this how Alexander felt?_

The singular thought flitted through his muddied mind like a leaf riding the breeze; beautiful and too elusive to ever claim. Maybe it was. Maybe he had felt entirely different. It was too late for Thomas to ask so it was best not to dwell.

Hours later, he pulled into the parking lot receiving many stares of surprise. Why would a car like this ever attend an event like Alexander Hamilton's funeral? The question seemed to be written across every forehead in black sharpie, displayed to him since all eyes were to be avoided.

Thomas was here for one thing and one thing only: to grieve the loss of his dear Alexander no matter how prominent the idea that he ultimately caused the tragic event.

Getting out of his car, eyebrows rose and jaws dropped to see exactly who decided to show up. Did they know? Or were they surprised he even bothered to show up, overwhelmed with the heartache and misery of the loss of his only true lover?

As if on cue, a man of curls and just a little bit of height on Thomas trod across the hard gravel of the parking lot, embracing the man who was very obviously on edge. "Mon ami, I'm so sorry for you loss," came the condolence with a heavy french accent.

Thomas did not return the hug but rather pushed Lafayette away with cold rejection. "Hey, I don't exactly want any attention..." came the mumbled reply. Understanding flashed in the Frenchman's dark eyes, a nod to compliment mood.

"Of course," he purred with far too much charm than he ought to at an occasion such as this before prancing off to join his husband, Hercules Mulligan.

The reception carried on as expected in the small church that sat on the edge of the burial grounds. Thomas carefully and narrowly avoided visual contact, conversation, physical contact, and anything else having to do with social interaction. It was tedious but the only thing he needed to focus on since Alex and Eliza were both banished from this world by his hand. To give the appearance that he was normal, he nibbled on a cracker offered at the free food table, don't doubt organised by the couple he had witnessed prior.

Soon, the ceremony was upon them, Alexander's ashes inserted into the ground in a lone grave. Thomas didn't cry, only washed in silence. He had seen what he came for.

After a long drive home, he fetched the gun he had in safekeeping, should this time arrive. And so it did.

A gunshot later and two bodies littered the floors of his childhood home. Finally, Thomas could be reunited with his dear Alexander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo I'm sorry, I was bored in class so,,,,, take this crap

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I appreciate all feedback and I'm sorry for causing more angst in your lives


End file.
